Remember Me Like I Remember You
by OogieBoogie
Summary: It's not everyday that Draco Malfoy appears at Hermione Granger's doorstep, half-dead, with no recollection of who he is or where he is. But he seems to think she's his wife. What! (Post-Hogwarts)
1. Chapter 1

Hermione rinsed her plates clean and placed them back into their respective drawer after towelling them dry. Her wand lay forgotten on her kitchen table as usual when she does her cooking as well as her washing.

Despite loving magic to hell and back, Hermione still stuck to her old Muggle traditions of doing the laundry, dishwashing, cooking and other house chores by hand. Ron had called her a complicated woman after witnessing all that during a visit.

Yes – after all, what is Hermione if not complicated?

Her life was complicated ever since she was eleven, what with being Harry Potter's best friend, the brain of the Golden Trio, the whole Voldemort business, the one-sided affection for Ron, _Obliviate_-ing her parents and shipping them to Australia and relocating them after the War, etcetera etcetera – Hermione's life was nothing short of complicated, it seemed.

But she'd come a long way since then. Things didn't work out with Ron, and she now lived in a dainty, humble house in suburban Muggle London and she has a monotonous job at St. Mungo's as a Healer.

She had changed into a boring, dull woman (however, if you asked Ron, he would have said "when was she ever not boring and dull?"). She had nothing to look forward to, save for her job which she loved dearly – she had an enormous responsibility, to save and heal people on a daily basis. It felt good to be needed.

However, she didn't feel the same way when she came home to an empty house every night. There were nights when she would just stare up at the ceiling … hoping, praying, _wishing _that something would change, that something big would happen to complicate her life once more. She had missed the thrill, the action, the suspense – hell she missed the problems she had to solve with her prodigious brain!

Hermione Jean Granger's life was colourless. The only thing, to her dismay, that she found remotely exciting in her home was whenever she found a crack on the ceiling or a leak in the pipes.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this is pathetic," she would say.

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"When are you going to get yourself a boyfriend, Hermione, dear?" Molly asked her during their daily Sunday dinner gatherings at The Burrow.  
"Not anytime soon, I suppose. I've been really busy with work, did you know that the -" she began, but was cut off by Molly's almost-sympathetic look.  
"That's wonderful, dear, but you ought to find someone to share that lovely, big house with you. It's such a shame for you to be staying in such a nice place, all alone."

Hermione inwardly cringed.

"It's really not that bad," she laughed weakly, "But thank you, Molly."

She gave Hermione that look again, akin to pity, before moving into the kitchen to grab some more food. Hermione grabbed her glass and finished her wine in one gulp.

_It's really not that bad_, she reassured herself.

That night she went back to her house, empty as usual, and sunk into the armchair. She looked around the house fleetingly; it was one-storeyed with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and her own study … everything was immaculate, in place and corresponded well with each other. She sighed.

_This house needs a little bit of life. I miss Crookshanks. At least there was someone waiting for me to come home – even though it was just for food. _She let out a huff of laughter. _Maybe I should get a puppy after work tomorrow._

She smiled to herself. That sounded like a brilliant idea. At least now, she had something to look forward to. No sooner than she started smiling, she started frowning instead, vaguely remembering the note she got from her superior last Friday before she knocked off work.

_Granger,_

_Take Monday off. Honestly. You work too much. I don't want to see you until Tuesday. That's an order._

_Elias_

Hermione went to bed that night, trying her best to push out the thoughts of loneliness and miserableness out of her mind. Even her boss didn't want her around!

Her dreams were full of puppies that night, and someone whose face was blurry, grabbing her hand and laughing along with her.

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Groaning audibly, she pointed her wand at her alarm clock and it stopped ringing instantly. She had forgotten to cancel her alarm clock as she was ordered _not _to go to work that day. Hermione turned to her side and clutched at the empty space next to her. The sheets on the unoccupied side were spick-and-span and untouched, so were the pillow and they radiated nothing but coolness. She unclenched her fist and clenched again, as if reaching out for some phantom warmth, phantom body to wake up to.

Smiling wryly, she got out of bed and tucked her feet into her house slippers before making her side of the bed up.

Her side? Who was she kidding? There were no sides. It was just hers.

She peeked out of the window, the clouds floating gloomily above, looking so dark and heavy that it seemed it would burst even with the slightest touch. Bloody Mondays.

_Bloody every day, you mean_, the nasty voice in her head reminded her. She shook her head at the thought and reminded herself that she was supposed to get a puppy today. No work means more time to hunt for a puppy. That cheered her up enough to get her to make breakfast and plan for a nice, long shower.

She was soaking in the lukewarm water with extra soapy foam, just the way she liked. Humming to herself, she genuinely relaxed after such a long time. Granted, it was by her choice not other's, but still …

Slowly, her hands trailed down her arms, her sides and her legs – she sighed at the comfort. It's been too long since someone's touched her so intimately, so intricately … _too long_.

_I wish something would just happen._

Just as she was about to fantasize about a certain faceless man kissing her, stroking her face and proclaiming his love for her, she felt something invade her wards. It wasn't light, like when it happened when a cat or any other animals came too close to her residence, but it wasn't heavy or threatening either. She grabbed her wand and waved around, muttering the incantation to determine the magical signature of the being that was currently brushing against her wards outside.

It was unrecognisable. It was not familiar at all. It wasn't Harry nor Ron – though them being stuck outside her wards would be impossible since she had altered the wards to allow them entry. She sat still in the bathtub for a moment before hauling herself up, quickly getting herself into a bathrobe, wrapping her hair in a towel and zipped towards her main door, armed with her wand.

She know she must've looked silly to whoever was outside her door – being dressed in a bathrobe with a towel around her head and feet tucked in house slippers, looking serious with her wand. She knew she looked deceiving at times, but she used that to her advantage, for she could make people hurt something fierce.

Opening the door, she poked her head out warily to find –

A limp body, lying across her front door. The person's face was turned away, but before she inspected the body further, she looked around and checked the surrounding areas of her house for any foreign magic or entity. Nothing. The unmoving body by her feet was the only thing foreign according to her wand.

Certain that there was no impending danger, she kneeled down the body and gasped in shock.

For she caught sight of platinum-blond hair. Though it was mussed and stained with mud here and there, she didn't know many people who had that shade, only one man … long ago during her school years, and that one man was the one she rarely saw, save for during Ministry occasions.

He could have been anywhere, in a crowd of people, or out in the streets – with such noticeable, distinguishable hair, Hermione could never be mistaken … Hermione was _rarely_ mistaken.

When she carefully turned the body so that she was able to see said person's face, she pursed her lips. She was right.

It was Draco Malfoy.

His face was pale, paler than usual – he had purple marks here and there, bruises and cuts on his face and body. He appeared to not be breathing, so Hermione brought her ear close to his marred-clothed chest and listened hard.

_Thump … thump … thump … thump …_

She let out a breath of relief. So he was alive after all, thank Merlin, save for the swallow breathing. She quickly grabbed her wand and did a quick scan staring from his feet, her Healer instincts kicking in.

A few cuts and bruises, nothing Hermione can't fix – until she reached his head. There was a deep wound at the back of his head. It wasn't bleeding profusely, it was just swollen … most likely caused by a heavy blow to the back of the head, or he was hit by a spell first before falling down hard. Either way, Hermione thought smugly, it wasn't anything she can't fix.

Saving her confusion and curiosity for later, she cast a Lightening Charm on Malfoy before Levitating him into her house. Without further thinking, she Levitated him into her bedroom, knowing that her spare rooms were useless as most of them had no beds and the only guestroom (for Harry or Ron during those drunken nights or when their wives kick them out) was filled with her unfolded laundry.

She gently dropped Malfoy onto the bed, disregarding the stains and blood marks that were caused by Malfoy's battered body and ruined clothes, and quickly got to work.

It took her longer than necessary, because whenever she unfolded any material from Malfoy's body, there were more cuts and bruises – almost as if Malfoy was tortured before getting knocked in the head and sent to Hermione's place after.

Wiping the sweat off her brow, Hermione watched as Malfoy slept on now-clean sheets, cuts and bruises stained with the colour of the healing salve and his head partially wrapped with bandage. She bit her nail nervously.

Why was Malfoy sent here? _Who _sent him? Who tortured him so mercilessly? And even if Malfoy came here out of his own accord, why did he come _here_, to Hermione?

Everything was so puzzling, and she couldn't wait for Malfoy to wake up to bombard him with questions.

For now he needed the rest, to heal. She checked that there was water and a Pain Potion at the bedside table before she flicked off the switch and shut the door only partially before making her way to the guestroom.

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Hermione was roused into wakefulness by the sound of a small, short cough. She jolted upright, finding herself in the middle of a laundry-filled bed and the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. Apparently she had fallen asleep in the middle of her clothes-folding. She paid it no mind as she pushed everything over in her haste before rushing over to the master bedroom.

Silver-grey eyes met hers and she stood in the doorway.

Draco Malfoy was seated against the headboard, looking calm and unafraid – not like a person who was just tortured within an inch of his life and found himself in a completely strange place.

Hermione noticed that colour was beginning to come back into his cheeks and lips.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked softly, taking a tentative step towards him – careful not to startle him, lest he … well, he didn't have a wand when he arrived here anyway so Hermione had no idea why she was being careful. Maybe she was wary of the famous Malfoy temper, after all.

"Thirsty," came the cool, terse reply.  
"Here," she grabbed the glass on the bedside table and poured him a glass before handing it to him.

He accepted it willingly, muttering a quiet, 'thank you', before drinking like it without stopping for a breath.

Hermione's eyes widened. Malfoy actually said thank you to her, Hermione Granger.

"Better?" she asked.  
"Yes, very much," he groaned as he tried sit up more. Hermione moved to help him but she stopped when she caught sight of the charming smile Malfoy sent her way.

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. Malfoy sat up fully and watched her with interest.

"I'm sorry, but hello. Do I know you?" Malfoy said, the charming grin still plastered on his face.  
Hermione gaped at him.

"Of course you do," she said, offended at the fact that Malfoy has the audacity to play insult-you games at a time like this, after she saved his life! The nerve!

"Really? Merlin, forgive me but for the life of me I cannot recall who you are," Malfoy said, smiling guiltily, before raising his hand to grasp hers and stroke tenderly at the flesh there.  
"I … I, uh … I think you fell pretty hard and knocked your head," Hermione said blankly, too shocked by this other side of Malfoy that she never knew existed.

"Is that so? And you took great care of me, I presume?" he asked.  
"Yes, I should think I did," Hermione answered.  
"Thank you."  
"You're welcome, Malfoy."  
"Malfoy? Is that my name?" Malfoy asked curiously, chanting the name repeatedly as if testing the sound on his tongue.  
"It's your surname, Draco, really. We don't have time to play games such as these, we need to find out who did all this to you."

Malfoy ignored her and this time, kept chanting 'Draco'.

"Draco," he said with a finality, "I like it."  
"Of course you do, it's your own name."  
"Funny, I don't remember it, no. Not until you told me that it was," he shook his head and smiled.  
"Malfoy, are you playing games?"  
"No, not at all. I can't remember anything. You do look _very _familiar, though. Are you my wife?" Malfoy brought his hand up to her jaw and stroked there instead, ignoring the suddenly slack-jawed Hermione that was spluttering.

"Actually," she began but was cut off by Malfoy, who was still idly stroking her face.  
"Is this your room?"  
"Yes," Hermione answered, growing more confused by the second.

What the fuck was Malfoy playing at?

"Fantastic," Malfoy said in a husky, seductive voice before snaking his hand behind Hermione's neck and pulling her flush against him on the bed. Before she had any idea what was going on, Malfoy took hold of both sides of her face and pressed his lips against hers.

Hermione's head was ringing with alarms and warning sounds but for the life of her she wasn't able to move away from Malfoy, especially when he was kissing her like _that_ –

One part of her was screaming 'this is _Malfoy!_' and the other half was just content to surrender her mouth for Malfoy's thorough, _thorough _perusal.

This was wrong, and weird and also Malfoy but fuck, that was the quite the hottest kisses and feeling she had ever felt in … well, donkey's years, _shit._

Hermione's mind was reeling and she was _this close _to just _participating _and letting go – kiss now, ask questions later. That sounded good in her head. But just as she was about to follow through with that, Malfoy pulled away and Hermione instinctively followed him for a moment before he chuckled.

"What's your name?" He asked, pressing another chaste kiss onto her lips.

Hermione was about to protest, to tell him to cut the crap and that she wasn't his wife –

"My love, what's your name?" he smiled, running his thumb against her lower lip and she fought the urge to just _lick_, and before she could answer –

"HERMIONE!" A scandalized voice boomed throughout the room from the doorway.

Both Malfoy and Hermione looked towards to the source of said booming voice, to see Harry Potter standing in the doorway, jaw dropped to the floor and eyes as wide as saucers.

**TO BE CONTINUED! Dun dun dun!**

**Teehee! Read and review! **


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello there, everyone! I know it feels like _forever_ since the first chapter, and I do apologize for that. Insert usual delay reason here, busy-with-life, writers-block, etc. I almost decided to abandon this story and delete it, but after receiving messages from you readers asking me to continue, I couldn't refuse. So this one's for you guys! I promise to diligently post up chapters and to never leave you hanging like that again! *bakes cookies for readers*

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Harry was gobsmacked. His mouth kept opening but there were no sounds emitting from it. It opened, and closed and opened and closed again.

It made him look remarkably like a goldfish.

"Harry!" she jumped up a few minutes later – reaction delayed – and away from Draco Malfoy, pushing him away with such a force that made him make an 'oomph!' sound.

"Hermione – wha, wha, _WHY?!_" He still had that scandalized look on his face.

"Why hello there, I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said politely, managing to look superior even when bedridden.

Harry, one would think – being a noble Gryffindor and all – would have gone up to Malfoy and shook his hand, especially when Malfoy made his introductions with such politeness. But at that time Harry was too shocked and too miffed to do anything about it. He just stood there, staring at Malfoy.

"Very funny, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Malfoy frowned slightly and looked from Harry to Hermione and back again.

"Harry, I can explain," she said slowly, leading him out and away from the room. Before she shut the door to the bedroom, they heard Malfoy purr, "Come back soon, dear. I plan to get to know you better. Or rather, invite you to refresh my memory."

Hermione winced at the sudden twitch in Harry's right eye and the appearance of a vein in the middle of his forehead at that.

Malfoy's tone had sounded rather suggestively sordid to the both of them – though maybe more to Hermione because her mind lived exclusively in the gutter. Hermione had half a mind to just ask Harry to come back later while she reacquainted herself (and other parts of herself) with Malfoy (and other parts of himself, too), but she chose to pacify her best friend first, who was positively bursting with outrage.

"Please do explain," Harry hissed, his breathing heavy and nostrils flaring.

Without bating a breath, she immediately relayed the whole story to Harry, watching as his face shifted from being irritated, to shocked, to puzzled and finally, full of curiousness.

"Take him to St. Mungo's then," Harry said decisively after Hermione had finished filling him in, "Have a Mind Healer take a look at him. He's obviously gone bonkers."

"Harry, he's not crazy. He's just knocked his head a little bit," Hermione replied briskly.  
"A little bit? A little bit, Hermione? Didn't seem like it when he had his tongue stuck halfway down your throat earlier," Harry snapped, rolling his eyes.

Hermione almost conceded that, but not before she felt her whole face burning after remembering the incident earlier. She resisted touching her face and fanning herself.

"But it's been years after the War, who could have possibly tortured him like that?" Harry asked himself.  
"Exactly, Harry – but some people never forgive and they always hold grudges until they get their own form of 'justice'," Hermione said almost angrily, "And why would Malfoy beat the living shit out of himself and then cast _Obliviate_? Honestly, Malfoy can be a bit of a pompous git but he's got too much love for himself to do that."

Harry nodded in agreement, rubbing his chin while nursing his cup of tea. Hermione didn't know whether Harry was agreeing to the fact that some people still held grudges long after the war or the fact that Malfoy looked splendidly primped up twenty-four-seven in school.

Except now he looked battered and bruised, but Hermione was sure that he still had some sense of impeccable grooming buried somewhere deep inside his current shell of a wrecked body.

Her thoughts strayed, and it was a challenge to find clean, neutral and innocent images of Malfoy in her head – especially after that _sin_ of a kiss.

"What do you propose we do about him then?" he asked after a while.

Hermione resisted the urge to jump across the table and envelope her best friend in a huge hug, for not abandoning her, for sticking with her through all the abnormalities in her life – so she settled for smiling warmly at him and grasping his free hand.

Harry smiled back.

"You know what … keep him here for now. He'll be safe here. Whoever's after him won't think to look here, knowing what Malfoy feels about non-pureblood wizards and witches. Anyway, that's if they know he's even alive in the first place."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Keep him here while I investigate," Harry finished, "I'll see what I can do."  
"Thank you, Harry."

Harry made a dismissive wave motion.

"In the meantime, do try to keep a distance. I think it's just grand that you both are getting along swimmingly but I don't think I can take another scene like that ever again," Harry shot her a warning look.

_But I can_, Hermione thought fiercely and she immediately slapped the traitorous voice away.

"Of course."

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Surprisingly, Hermione and Draco fell into a routine very quickly. Hermione found that, when Malfoy didn't have that infernal smirk on his face, he was a thousand times more handsome and a billion more when he smiled sincerely.

She also found that, when Malfoy wasn't busy making snide remarks or snarling away insults at everyone, he was the perfect person to have a conversation about.

Malfoy would prepare her breakfast every morning before she left for work, and he would busy himself in the house while she was gone, reading manuals after manuals. By the second week, he was able to operate about every single Muggle thing in the house without help.

Malfoy had no recollection of magic. He had no idea what Hogwarts, Slytherin, Voldemort and The War were all about. He just told Hermione they were funny words, for sure, but nothing else. He seemed to accept the idea of Hermione being able to do magic with her wand very well, he seldom questioned her, only continuing to smile at her with that heart-melting love-struck smile.

Complacent Malfoy was something Hermione had yet to debate on liking better than haughty Malfoy. She didn't mind the love-struck part though. Not one bit.

It has been a while since a man showered her with such attention, after all. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, during dinner one night.  
"Draco," he looked up at smiled _that smile _at her and her insides positively melted, "Darling."

Hermione flushed and immediately got herself under control. Clearing her throat, she asked nervously, "Draco … do you … do you remember anything at all? I mean, before you came here."

Draco frowned and smiled fondly at her, as if she was asking the silliest thing in the world and took her hand, stroking lightly – Hermione's eyes almost fluttered at the motion.

"No, not really. But does that matter? It feels as if my life truly started when I met you, and I seem to have forgotten the rest, even my past. Why do you ask, darling?" he said silkily.

Hermione almost laughed at that, it felt as if what Malfoy had just said came out of a romance novel.  
_Damn! _Hermione thought_. I hope he didn't find my secret stash of trashy romance novels while I was out._

"Well, I was just curious. I just wanted to know what kind of life you were living before all this. Before the accident," she said plainly.  
"Why, I was happily married to you, of course," he grinned with a twinkle in his eyes.

Hermione sighed.

She had given up telling him that they were _not_ married and that they were absolutely not _lovers_. Malfoy was adamant on the idea that they have been married for quite a while now, and he said he just didn't simply understand why Hermione kept convincing him otherwise. And the more Hermione tried to push the issue, Malfoy would then complain of a headache and she'd be forced to stop – lest she triggered some head injury with stress.

The last thing she needed was a reiteration of nursing Malfoy back from the brink of death.

She welcomed his fleeting touches though – the swift stroke at the side of her face, the tucking of a curl behind her ear, the 'have a good day at work today, love' kisses on the cheeks every morning and the like.

Week after week, Hermione found herself working with a certain bounce to her feet and a radiant glow to her face, everyone at work kept commenting on it. She seldom stayed back at the hospital after her shift like she normally did. If anything, she couldn't wait to get back. Why? She didn't dare ponder on that yet. She just enjoyed her time with Malfoy while waiting for news from Harry about the Malfoy investigation – he had yet to get back to her on that.

"Sweetheart," Malfoy called softly while they were washing dishes together after dinner one night.  
"Hmm," Hermione found herself acknowledging out of habit.

"Did we have a terrible fight?" he asked.  
Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"Why do you ask that?"

Storm-grey eyes looked into hers and she found her gaze flickering between those hypnotizing eyes and his lips. Now that Malfoy was fully healed and he had put on a bit of weight after the accident, he looked positively delectable.

She rarely saw him around after the war, but she heard gossips alright. Malfoy was seen was this model, Malfoy was seen with that beauty, Malfoy one of the most sought-after bachelors, etcetera. Back then, Hermione paid no mind at all. But seeing him and experiencing him this close every day, she knew why he was the cause of so much hype.

Never mind the signature blond hair, it was everything really. The eyes, the perfect aristocratic nose, the bite-able lips, the _smell oh god the smell_.

Hermione swore he smelled like a _panther_, if that was possible. Many a time she found herself wanting to plaster herself to his neck and just sniff forever.

"We never kiss, we never hold each other – let alone sleep in the same bed," Malfoy said sadly, "Whatever I did, was it that terrible? With Harry you are warm and friendly and _affectionate_. It is only with me that I feel that somehow you are … withdrawn."

Hermione blinked.

In that moment, Hermione knew that beneath the cold Malfoy mask, Malfoy would be the perfect, sensitive husband. It just seemed a little unfair that she had to see this side of him without him knowing it. The real Malfoy wouldn't give two shits about whether she was _withdrawn _around him. Hell, the real Malfoy wouldn't even call her sweetheart and all those pet names that she got so used to.

_Well, when he regains his memory, there'll be more reason for us to avoid each other. That would be really awkward,_ Hermione thought. _Not to mention he'd be absolutely furious with me even though it really is not my fault that he got this vulnerable._

"Hermione?" Malfoy called again, looking at her with concern.

The real Malfoy would probably go, _"Hey, Mudblood, I'm talking to you," _with an irritated look.

Hermione smiled a little, "Whatever you did, it was a long, long time ago, Draco."  
"Oh. I am truly sorry anyway."  
"It's okay," she reassured him.

"So could you – would you – come back to bed today?" he asked, with a hopeful glint in his eyes, "Please?"

_Well, when you ask that nicely, then maybe I have no choice but to –_

"What?" Hermione squawked.  
"Since you said everything is alright between us, it just confuses me so that we sleep in separate beds, let alone separate rooms."  
"B-but -," she sputtered.  
"It is unhealthy for a married couple to sleep in separate beds, you know," he looked at her almost warningly.

"But -" she tried to argue again, but was cut off by Malfoy's lips on her own. It was soft, chaste and fleeting, but she was surprised to find that she didn't mind it at all. If anything, she almost growled that he pulled back so soon.

"But nothing," he looked at her searchingly, and she finally nodded in defeat, partly because all her energy was used to accommodate her heart beating a million times a second after just one innocent kiss. She nodded in agreement again, her ears hot and her heart still pounding. In her nervousness, she almost broke three plates.

That night, Malfoy gently wiped her hands clean with a towel before taking her hand and leading her into her – his – _their _bedroom. She could not think at all, it was as if her brain just short-circuited after seeing her bedroom with Malfoy in it – with _both of them _in it.

Malfoy jumped into bed first, lifting the covers and motioning for her to join him. Slowly, she slid into bed, facing away from him, blushing furiously. She heard him laugh behind her before he covered her completely and pushed himself closer until his chest was almost glued to her back.

She almost hyperventilated at the fact that he was _that _close and she could catch his scent and it was so _mmmm …_

He threw her arm around her and settled into his pillow.  
Hermione smiled a little at that.

_Well what do you know, Malfoy's a cuddler._

There was an almost-awkward silence around them, save for their breathing.

Just when Hermione was about to shut her eyes and just _oh to hell with it, get some sleep_, Malfoy spoke.

"When was the last time we made love?"

Hermione almost choked on her own spit at that, and resisted the urge to laugh uncontrollably.

"Well … never," she blurted.  
"Why?"  
"It just … it just never happened," she answered.

_And would never, ever happen if you were your real self. You would rather kill yourself before sleeping in the same bed with me, I'm sure. Shit, I hope he forgets all this when he recovers his old memories._

"Oh … did the accident happen before we could even … you know?"  
Hermione blinked.

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Wow, I got married to a beautiful girl and knocked my head before we could even consummate."

Hermione flinched at the word.  
_Consummate._

"We should get 'round to doing that soon," came Malfoy's voice behind her teasingly.

Hermione gulped.

"Goodnight, darling," he said sleepily.  
"Goodnight, Draco."

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of Malfoy cooking breakfast again.

She thought to herself idly, _I could get used to this_, as Malfoy appeared in the doorway with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile on his face.

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Harry popped in a few days later, saying that nobody in the wizarding world knew where Draco had disappeared off to, even Malfoy's mother was desperately searching for him.

According to Harry's suggestion, Malfoy should be taken to his mother. She'd know what to do with her son.

Hermione, however, insisted that Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't want to see her son like that. Plus, Draco wouldn't be able to take so much in so short a time.

She had no idea why she was delaying his treatment, she had no idea why she was defending him and keeping him from people that he really _knew_, people that meant _something _to him, people that could _help _him –

She just – she just wanted him around, if only just for a while …

Just a little bit, just before she would have to go back to the monotony that was her life. Her life before Draco.

_Why? Why? Why? Why?_ Her brain was pestering.

She didn't know the answer to that herself, until Harry said it.

"Bloody hell. _You like him._"

Harry had asked to get over '_this crazy, sudden crush'_ she had on Malfoy, because it was getting in the way of helping him recover – but Hermione insisted that that wasn't the case – she simply wanted the whole thing to be kept on a hush-hush. That's what Malfoy would have wanted, she had said.

Harry had looked at her disbelievingly, but agreed anyway.

"I don't know what you're doing, Hermione, but … we'll have to fix this fast, I hope you know that," Harry had said.  
"Yes, I know. And thank you, Harry. Let me know if there are any updates," she had replied snippily.

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The Daily Prophet was on the table when Hermione sat on the table the next few days.

She flipped it open while sipping on her coffee, her ears picking up on the faint rustling of Draco fixing something outside the house.

What she saw on the front page made her drop her coffee, with a loud _CRASH!_

It was a photo of Draco Malfoy, looking straight at the camera with no expression whatsoever, looking like his usual calm, collected self and dressed in all-black. He had an emblem that was shining, pinned to the left side of his robes.

_**DRACO MALFOY: MISSING?**_

_** … **__Draco Malfoy has come a long way since the war. The ex-Death Eater had turned over a new leaf since the war and had made his name in the Ministry as well as the wizarding world. The current __**Head of Magical Law Enforcement**__has been missing for a few months now. He was sent out on an assignment with his assistant, the Vice Head of MLE, Victor Moyenne, and according to Moyenne, he was missing ever since._

"_We all came back from the mission safely, but Draco never did show up. I hope he is out there, alive and safe," Moyenne said, "There are plenty of people who want ex-Death Eaters dead, but Draco is a changed, good man. I hope he returns to us soon."_

_Since Malfoy's disappearance, Moyenne is currently the acting Head of MLE. _

_The Ministry implores everyone – if anyone has seen Draco Malfoy, or has heard anything about his whereabouts, please do not hesitate to contact the Ministry._

_Our thoughts and prayers are with him, wherever he is. __**...**_

Hermione folded the newspaper quickly and dropped it onto the table as if it had stung her. She stared at it for long moments, eyes wide.

"Hermione?" she heard Draco call.  
"In here," she replied in a false cheerful voice.

"I heard a crash, is everything alright?" Draco's head appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Yes, my mug just slipped, that's all," she grinned, before fixing it with her wand.

"Ah, The Daily Prophet," Draco said, walking towards the table, "Anything good?"  
"Nope," She quickly _Incendio'd_ the newspaper and watched as it burst into flames, "Rubbish, as usual."

Draco grinned as he planted a kiss on her temple.

At that moment, Hermione chose to swallow her guilt and smile back at him.

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**Don't kill me!  
Reviews are definitely love!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: M for this chapter! Naughty times ahead.

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Guilt. _So much _guilt.

It plagued Hermione for two weeks, for every second after she had _Incendio_'d the newspaper article that bore Draco Malfoy's picture and plea for him to come back.

Staring at herself in the mirror in the morning, she noted the almost-purple eye bags manifesting themselves so very glaringly under her chocolate brown eyes.

She couldn't sleep, couldn't eat properly, couldn't concentrate at work. She couldn't even look at Draco properly, couldn't even look at him in the eyes.

Who was she to hold him back? Who was she to keep him from getting the treatment he truly needs and deserves? Who was she to keep him from everything that he had ever known?

From his own _mother_.

And for what?  
Just so that she can have company? Just so that she can have _somebody_ whose life revolves around her?

But it was a sham, Draco's current life – Draco's _real _life did not revolve around her. He had a career, he had a perfect life. It was unfair to him, to his mother and to everyone who truly cared about Draco.

Hermione cared too, to what extent she did not know but all she knew right then was that it was wrong. It was so very wrong and she didn't know how long she could take it anymore. It was almost criminal, keeping someone away from treatment just because – just because …

Just because what? She felt alone? She wanted somebody to care for her?  
Because she may love him?

Hermione laughed bitterly at her reflection.

"How low have you stooped, Hermione Granger," she chided.

She felt sad and guilty. She didn't know which emotion was greater, which one was slowly killing her inside.

Nodding resolutely at herself, she made up her mind.

She would do the right thing.

She was a Healer first, Hermione Granger second.

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"About time you showed up," Harry said casually, "I was wondering when you would finally give in to guilt and come here."

Hermione smiled half-heartedly as he opened the door to his flat, enveloping him in a long, warm hug.

"You're a Gryffindor, Hermione," he said, stroking her hair, "You're doing the right thing. Albeit a little slow on the uptake, but at least you're still doing it."

At that, she started tearing up and hugged Harry a little tighter.

"It's okay, it's okay. I know how you feel about him."

Hermione sighed and let him go, walking into his living room and dropped heavily onto the sofa.

"So what's the plan of action now?"  
"Well, now that you're here, I can finally sign the letters I've already written to inform Mrs Malfoy that we have found her son, and to the Hawthorn Institute requesting them to prepare a ward for Malfoy so that the Mind Healers can have a look at him and start fixing him. We'll have to be very quiet about it though, nobody is to know, just in case whoever wanted him dead finds out."

Her heart gave a painful lurch at that.

"I see," she answered, "When?"  
"Tomorrow."

Hermione nodded.

"On another note, how did you know I was finally going to do this?" she looked at him curiously, suddenly thinking about the fact that Harry had written those letters prior to her arrival.  
"Because I know you Hermione," he grinned. "Nothing will ever stop you from doing the right thing."

"But I've behaved so … so …" Hermione couldn't even find the word for it, and that rarely ever happened for a genius like herself, "Less than honourable."

"Well, letting go of someone that you … err," Harry cleared his throat, "You know, even if it _is_ for their benefit and for the very best can be extremely difficult."  
"Well thank goodness Draco isn't going to remember any of this when he regains his old memory back, otherwise he is going to hate me so much," Hermione laughed, "More than he already did in school, I presume."

Harry was silent at that, but he watched her with an empathetic smile.

"Oh well, that's that. I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Hermione said. "I think I need a holiday. A proper one, after all this."  
"Yeah, I would understand if you don't want to be there when we … you know … take him away. If you can't take it, maybe you could just go somewhere. I'll let you know when he's in good hands and getting treatment."  
"No, I'll be fine. I'll be there."

Hermione had never sounded so unsure of herself at that moment.

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"Hey, love," a voice called out to her fondly.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to the source of the voice. Draco was seated on the sofa, a book in his hands, smiling at her sweetly.

"Oh, hey," she said, her heart aching painfully, "How are you?"  
"I'm alright. I missed you this morning, you left without waking me."  
"Oh, no, I just thought I'd let you sleep," she smiled, still standing in the same position, not daring to get too close for fear that close proximity might just make her not want to let him go.

Draco frowned slightly at that and continued, "And you didn't come back from work early like you usually do."  
"I went to Harry's … I had to, umm, give him something."

Draco continued to watch her with his silver eyes, as if trying to decide on something.

Hermione offered a small smile and a shrug, turning slightly to walk away.

"Wait," he called.  
"Yeah?" she answered, not turning around but walking to hang her coat.

When she turned around to look at Draco, he was already right in front of her.

"I've got something for you," he said, his scent overwhelming Hermione's senses.  
"W-what is it?" she said, almost nervously.

"You'll see … but why don't you go freshen up, change and come back here?" he smiled sweetly, and that same feeling of breaking and healing returned to Hermione.

"A-alright," she nodded.  
He kissed her tenderly on the cheek and she had to shut her eyes from the intense feeling of butterflies floating violently in her belly.

As Draco disappeared into the kitchen, Hermione went to her bedroom and proceeded to take a shower, willing the irritating ache in her chest to _just go away_.

Hermione hated that feeling – the feeling of wanting to cry so bad but unable to.

She stood in the shower, letting the spray of warm water hit her back – her current and only source of comfort for whatever she was feeling.

_Just tonight_, she thought, _one more night then all of this will be over. No more guilt. Just one more night._

With that, she shut the shower and towelled herself dry before changing into her ratty pair of pajamas.

"Draco?" she called as soon as she was out of her bedroom, carding her fingers through her wet hair.

"In here," his response came, coming from the kitchen.

Hermione switched the television off before walking into the kitchen.

As soon as she did, she gasped.

The whole kitchen was filled with red candles, giving the entire area a romantic glow. Her dining table was covered with a pretty, white tablecloth (one that she only took out for special occasions), and in the middle of it stood another candlestick, lighted up, bringing Hermione's eyes to the bunch of red roses lying next to it, a wine bottle with two wine glasses and lastly, the wonderful-looking meal on her best plates, positioned right opposite each other.

And stood right next to the table, in the middle of the most romantic setting she had ever seen, was Draco Malfoy, looking at her expectantly.

Hermione gaped at him before finding her voice.

"I, wha – Draco?" she whispered, thinking that if she spoke louder, it might ruin the moment.

Draco said nothing; he just came up to her, took her hands and squeezed gently.

"I thought I'd do something nice for you," he spoke softly, "You just seemed out of sorts lately … and I don't know what it is, but whatever it is that's bugging you, I hope that … _this_," he nodded towards the table, "Would at least take your mind off it."

"I … wow," Hermione laughed a little, looking down at her feet, "I just … this is wonderful, Draco. Really, it is. It's really sweet, and thank you. Nothing's bothering me really," she looked up and into his grey eyes and smiled, "Whatever it is, it'll be over soon."  
"That's great," he gave her a breath-taking smile in return.

"And I love this, it's really amazing," she gestured towards the table and the candles, "Thank you, Draco."

"Shall we?" He led her towards the table and pulled out a seat for her. Hermione smiled at him while he took his seat opposite her.

"I made your favourite," he told her.

Hermione looked down at her plate and smiled, feeling her eyes sting a little as tears started to build up. It was indeed her favourite, and the fact that Draco had chosen to do all this for her on their very _last _night together made her appreciate it so much more and made her hurt so very much at the same time.

"'Mione?" Draco covered her hand with his.  
"I'm fine," she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears, "It's just really sweet, I feel really … wow."

Draco grinned at her as he grabbed her spoon, scooped through her meal and offered the spoonful to her. Hermione opened her mouth and swallowed it, groaning in appreciation.

"Delicious," she shut her eyes. When she opened them, however, she found Draco looking at her with a look so intense, so smouldering combined with such fiery passion that she felt like her brain just melted at the force of his look.

She cleared her throat one more time and looked away, feeling her face burn at that.

They continued their dinner, with light conversation and jokes, with Hermione blushing whenever Draco reached out to wipe the corner of her mouth and smile at her fondly.

They started drinking the wine exceedingly fast and opened another bottle after dinner, moving from the kitchen to the living room where they both finished the other bottle on the sofa. Hermione was beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy by the time she finished her last glass.

"More wine, darling?" Draco asked.  
"Oh, no, thank you," she grinned, "I'm fine."

Draco took her glass and reached out to put it on the small table next to them, and instead of resuming his old position next to her, he was seated facing her.

They both stared at each other, not saying a thing.

Hermione's heart started racing, and she felt her ears burn at the sudden change of atmosphere.

She looked away and tried concentrating on something else but her eyes just couldn't _focus_ – she didn't know whether it was because she was nervous or because she was tipsy … but she knew the latter reason was completely silly.

"You look really beautiful, Hermione," she heard Draco say in front of her, and she caught his gaze. It was the same look earlier – only it felt like it multiplied in its intensity.

Hermione laughed nervously, trying to get her mind off her heartbeat echoing in her ears, "You must be joking, I'm in my ugly old pajamas."

"I know, but you are still beautiful to me," Draco leaned in and started stroking the side of her face, "You are beautiful all the bloody time really, it drives me absolutely mad."

"Mad?" she had to smile at that.  
"You have no idea what you do to me," he said almost gravely.

He took her right hand, brought them towards him and flattened it against his chest.

She immediately felt his heartbeat hammering against her fingertips, beating as fast as hers – if possible, faster – and she looked at him in the eyes.

"You see now?" he said.  
"Yes," she said softly, and looked away. She started to pull her hand back, but Draco refused to let go and grasped it tighter instead.

While she thought he was going to leave it at that, he had quickly let go of her hand and snaked his hang around her arm and _grabbed – _the force propelling her towards him and if it weren't for his fast reflexes and his free hand steadying her around the waist, they would have knocked foreheads.

Hermione made a sound of surprise as her hands quickly shot out to grab his shoulders, steadying herself and she looked straight to find mercury eyes gazing back at her while grinning mischievously.

"Draco!" she said, still surprised.

He said nothing, until she felt warm arms wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer against him, until they were chest to chest. Just then, Hermione took note of their current position. He was sitting on the sofa, while she was on his lap, her legs on either sides of him.

She blushed furiously and felt her face positively boil.

But damn it was the hottest thing ever to her at that moment.

"Are you shy?" Draco's teasing voice sounded like the sexiest thing to her as well.

Maybe she was drunk?

"A little bit," she admitted, watching as grey eyes crinkled in amusement, "Actually, a lot."

"Don't be, baby," he whispered with a smile, and before Hermione could register that he had called her 'baby' and before she could think of a response, Draco's brought his mouth towards hers and captured her lips in a hard, fiery kiss with almost bruising force.

The kiss was so searing, strong, so powerful that it made her spine tingle and her toes curl.

Hermione couldn't help but throw herself into the kiss – relinquishing everything else around her and just … _felt_.

Draco tasted like wine mixed with something else that was uniquely Draco, and Hermione was addicted. She couldn't stop, she didn't want to stop – she wanted to continue kissing Draco Malfoy forever.

She was burning.

Heat was seeping through their clothes, their bodies and although Draco was practically trying to amalgamate them with the way he was pulling her against him, she still felt like they weren't close enough.

Draco's hands were tracing patterns seductively down her clothed back and soon enough, his hands found their way underneath her pajama top and Hermione felt like she was burning everywhere he touched. His hands ventured down and down, until he reached her waistband, sneaked his hands in and cupped her arse tightly, squeezing it.

Hermione gasped and broke the kiss, head and vision clouded with desire.

"Dra -" she began, but was cut off by another kiss from Draco.  
"Shh," he hissed, and manoeuvred them so that Hermione's back faced the cushions on the sofa, before pressing her into it with his body.

He gave her another burning kiss, while his hands wandered all over, until they reached the hem of her shirt. He was pulling on it insistently and before the thought could even reach Hermione's brain, she pulled her hands above her head and as fast as lightning, Draco pulled the top over and off her.

She groaned when his hands touched the bare skin of her sides, her stomach and the curve of her clothed breasts.

Draco pulled away from the kiss and started to trace her jawline with his tongue, biting teasingly at the juncture between her neck and jaw. Hermione was losing all rational thought and she couldn't for the life of her stop him.

Draco's sneaky hands were now tugging at the waistband of her pajama bottoms, but instead of waiting and teasing her more, he pulled them off with such a force and threw it aside, leaving Hermione only in her bra and knickers.

Hermione's hands started to tug restlessly at his shirt too, but he only smiled at her and shook his head.

"No," he grinned, before tracing her lips with her tongue and seized her hands, bringing them up above her head and pinning them there.

He needn't have pinned them, Hermione couldn't even lift them if she wanted to – Draco had made her body go limp with pleasure and desire. He seemed to have notice, because his hands were back on her body, making her skin tingle and burn as he brought one hand around her back to unhook her bra.

"Beautiful," he said as he tossed the bra to Merlin-knows-where. He traced her skin and her breasts reverently, kissing and licking his way down from her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone, her chest, to her trembling belly and around her navel.

He hooked his index finger on the waistband of her knickers and slowly pulled them off her legs. He glided in between her legs and Hermione lost all thought.

They were in a furnace, Hermione was sure. It was scorching hot in there.

Draco stroked her naked thighs and kissed each one of them, making Hermione tremble so violently that she had to grip the edge of the cushions. When she felt his finger stroke her opening, she jolted and gripped his hair.

"No, Draco, don't," she said, face sweltering so much that she felt dizzy.  
"But I want to," he replied casually and before she could say anything to that, he ran his tongue against her opening and she cried out, falling back onto the cushions and hips bucking involuntarily.

_Holy sweet sodding fuck_. She was spread-eagle in the middle of her sofa, and had Draco Malfoy between her legs.

_Fuck_, but it was the hottest thing ever.

She fought for control – this was too – too – something –

"Ah!" she cried out as he lapped at her, face between her thighs.

"No – Draco, you – you don't know what you're doing –" Hermione managed in the midst of her pleasure, suddenly thinking about what the _real _Draco Malfoy would do or feel if he was himself, and doing what he was doing to Hermione-bloody-Granger.

_Fuck_.

"Actually, I think I know what I'm doing," he grinned up at her seductively, "And I think I know exactly what it does to you, too."

And he continued doing what he was doing and _fuck! fuck fuck fuck oh shit oh shit oh my god fucking fuck – _he was doing wicked things with his mouth and Hermione couldn't stop moaning and shouting his name into the air. She began trembling uncontrollably, she was close –

"Draco, I'm -"

A particularly long and thorough lick made her forget the rest of her sentence, and she tried again, fingers gripping his hair hard enough to hurt and ended up chanting, "Draco, Draco, Draco, I – _DRACO!_"

She lost it – and cried her pleasure out loud into the air, eyes shut as she exploded, Draco laughing in dark triumph as she rode it out.

As she came down from her high, she noticed that Draco was peppering kisses around her face, and when she turned to meet his eyes, she found that he looked much too pleased with himself, and for a second she thought he looked like the old Draco that she knew.

She stroked his hair and stared into his beautiful, beautiful eyes and she shut her own as she felt the early sting of tears.

"Sleep, darling," he whispered, as he dropped a tender kiss on her lips.

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Sleep obviously wasn't on her side after that. She only pretended to be asleep as Draco carried her to her – _their, after this it will be back to her _– room and laid her in bed, before climbing in and wrapping his arms around her.

"I love you," he whispered to her, and her insides warmed at the thought of Draco saying that even though he thought she was sleeping. Hermione basked in the warmth of his arms and listened to the sound of his breathing, until it slowed down, indicating that Draco had fallen asleep.

She opened her eyes and drank in details of her last few moments with Draco, before carefully extracted herself from his grip. Grabbing her wand, she cast spells so that she could not be heard moving around the place as Draco slept on.

Snatching a bunch of clothes from her closet, she stuffed them into her travel bag and wrote two short notes one to her boss – saying that there was a family emergency in Australia and that she wouldn't be coming in for work until further notice. She sent the note off with an owl and watched Draco sleep for a few more moments before she turned her head resolutely, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.

The other one was for Draco, before he forgets everything. It was planted on her pillow, saying that she loves him, too.

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**Ed Sheeran's Give Me Love was playing in my head when I was writing the last part of this chapter, thought it fits nicely. Have a listen!**

**TEEHEE! **

**READ AND REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione really did visit her parents in Australia.

She did not, however, come back to England straight after that – she sent another letter to her boss, asking if she could be transferred for the time being. Her boss replied a few days later, stating that there were no vacancies in other provinces, though help was very much needed in Africa – the mission camps, free vaccinations and treatments for the ill, poor and downtrodden.

She accepted the offer.

After all, she was tired of being confined in the hospital alone. It was about time to venture out of her trappings.

It was an amazing experience to say the least, to be able to help people who cannot afford it and to bond with them at the same time. There, far away from England, Hermione was able to forget her old life for the time being.

To forget about _him_.

It was about two months during her stay in the African camps that she had received a parcel from Harry. He had posted her favourite snacks and Hermione had laughed when she saw them.

There was a letter enclose, with a messy, familiar 'Hermione' written on the front.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know how much you miss these snacks so I decided to take pity on you and send them over. How are you? And how's Africa? Do not spare me the details; I think you're doing a wonderful thing. When are you coming back, though? I miss you._

Hermione smiled at this. She missed Harry, too.

_Anyway, I know you probably don't want to hear or even think about it but I think you ought to know what happened with Malfoy._

Hermione's smile faltered a little, and she continued reading with a heavy breath, heart lurching painfully.

_He regained his old memory after we checked him into the institution. Incidentally, that means that the memories he had during his stay with you are completely gone. He does not remember anything after he was cursed; he only has memories of when he was a toddler until the time before he got cursed. _

_He set out to get whoever got him into that mess in the first place, and it turned out that it was his vice-head – his own colleague, can you imagine! Apparently he was jealous that an ex-Death Eater like Malfoy was able to fare better than he did and holds a better job as well. The curse was meant to kill Malfoy, but for some reason it didn't and he had miraculously appeared on your doorstep. If he hadn't, he would have been dead. Anyway, they threw the guy into Azkaban, and it was plastered all over the newspapers for weeks._

_Of course, Malfoy asked a lot of questions. We kept you a secret, though. Didn't think you want the stress of explaining everything to Malfoy – at least, not yet. That's entirely up to you._

_Anyway, I have to go. I love you, I miss you and all that shite. _

_Come back soon._

_Love,  
Harry_

She laughed at the letter and felt somewhat relieved. At least Draco is alright now, he can continue his life, the way it was before.

Hermione only felt a little bit of sadness – after all, it wasn't the end of the world, was it?  
Everything was going to be alright.

She quickly grabbed a quill and began writing her reply to Harry.

_Dear Harry,_

_I miss you too, you can't even begin to imagine!_

_I love working here, Harry, I really do. It's wonderful. It's a far cry from what I am used to in England back in St. Mungo's, but it feels good to be able to really help people who really have no means of medication._

_I should be able to come back after a few months and continue my old dreary life, but my boss has agreed that I can come back here whenever I like. _

_Oops, almost forgot – how are you though? What's new? Do keep me updated though. I'm beginning to get a little bit of colour during my stay here. I hope you'll still be able to recognize me when I get back. _

_Thanks for the snacks, Harry. Will treasure it always and perhaps share it with some of the patients here._

_Send more, please._

_I love you and take care._

_Love,  
Hermione_

Yes, everything was going to be alright.

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**10 months later …**

"Wow, you really weren't lying when you said you were getting some colour in Africa!" Harry said warmly and enveloped Hermione in an equally warm hug.  
"I know," she laughed, tears springing into her eyes as she hugged her best friend tightly. She had missed Harry something fierce.

"You're _tanned_, Hermione," Harry said, and stroked her cheek, "But you look beautiful, you're glowing."  
"Aww, shucks, thank you Harry!" she said, punching him lightly on the arm, "You haven't changed one bit."  
"Still handsome, you mean?" he waggled his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course!"  
Harry grinned and led her into his kitchen. "Let's have dinner then, shall we?"  
"Yes, please. I have missed proper food," she laughed, "I've also been wishing for my favourite dish in Hogsmeade. Can we please, please, _please_ go?"

"Of course, but perhaps next week," Harry nodded, "Come visit me during lunch hour and we can go together, what do you say?"

"Perfect," she licked her lips as Harry set the food on the table.

Harry had even bought her a cake with a 'Welcome Home, Hermione' written all over it.

"So tell me everything about Africa," Harry said.  
"Let's see … what have I not told you in my letters to you?"

"Met any sexy men clad only in loincloth prancing about the deserts?"

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She knew it would spoil her appetite, but she couldn't refuse. It was _too _tempting.

After having purchased chocolate ice-cream on a cone and she licked at it merrily while waiting for Harry in front of the Ministry for his lunch break. They were going to have the dish she had been wishing for.

Sitting at the benches, she began humming to herself and welcomed random thoughts that began to flit through her mind as she lapped at her ice-cream.

"Granger?" a voice came from the left.

She froze.

It was an all-too-familiar voice – a rich sort of tenor that she had tried so very hard to forget after a year. Looking up towards the source of the voice, her heart stopped.

_Draco_.

She gaped at him, her mouth closing and opening repeatedly, unable to form even a proper greeting.

"Well, as interesting as the inside of your mouth may be, Granger …" he started, grinning a little.  
"Oh, oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy," she immediately stood up and offered her hand for him to shake, "I just … I'm just …"  
"You're just?" Malfoy asked patiently.  
"I just haven't seen you in a while," Hermione said truthfully, her heart beating at a billion times a minute as flashbacks of their time together breezed through her mind, like some slideshow. Her ears were hot, as well as her face and for that she was suddenly thankful for the tan she had acquired whilst on duty in Africa – the effect of her blush had dampened, compared to her blushing while having pale skin.

"So have I," Malfoy nodded, drinking in the sight of her, "You look different. You've got some colour on you."

"Actually yes, I just came back from a job in Africa," she explained shortly, "After a year, actually."  
"Ah, no wonder, Africa has done you well, then."  
"Why, Malfoy, if I had known better I would say that was a compliment," she teased, completely forgetting about her half-finished ice-cream.

"Maybe it is," he grinned cheekily – and Hermione remembered when he used to smile like that all the time.

She felt a pang go through her chest – _it's not like he remembers or anything_.

"Well, you're looking great too, Malfoy," she offered.  
"Why, Granger, if I had known better I would say that was a compliment," he mimicked.

Hermione laughed and shook her head, deciding to chuck her melted ice-cream into the bin. She had a feeling she would have no appetite for that anymore.

"Are you waiting for …" he asked.  
"Harry, yes. We're going for lunch together," she said, and paused before continuing, "Would you … like to join us?"

Draco smiled.

"I'd love to but I'm afraid I have another appointment elsewhere. Next time, perhaps?"  
"Of course," Hermione nodded, pushing the disappointment away.

"Listen, Granger …" he said, grey eyes meeting her brown ones.

Hermione waited uncomplainingly.

"I'm sorry for ever calling you Mudblood, and for the way I treated you in school," he said determinedly, not breaking eye contact.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Thank you, Malfoy, I … I appreciate that, I really do," she said, still a little surprised, "I'm sorry too, for … well, punching you in third year."  
She smiled sheepishly as he brought a hand up to his nose and rubbed it thoughtfully.

"I deserved it," he laughed.  
"Never mind, it's all in the past."

"I agree. Perhaps I could buy you a lovely dinner sometime soon, to properly make it up to you?"

Hermione's belly jumped.

"O-of course, Malfoy."  
"I'll owl you," Malfoy grinned and nodded.  
"Yeah, that'd be nice," she giggled nervously.  
"Alright then, Granger. Have a good day."  
"You too."

They exchanged smiles before Draco swaggered away in his usual Malfoy-style and Hermione still stood frozen to her spot.

She continued the day in a daze, until Harry asked her what was plaguing her mind.

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As promised, Draco had owled her a few days later on a Saturday, with the venue and time of their dinner.

Hermione's frenetically-beating heart subsided into a dull, barely-there ache that was endurable.

The dinner had gone extremely well, with them having polite conversations and clever arguments. It was almost as if whatever had happened a year ago was just a dream – a very magnificent dream at that.

She had expected a very easy and casual atmosphere between the both of them, and she was right. She was actually enjoying herself.

What she hadn't expected though, was the part where they moved from the restaurant to a nearby pub and Hermione got plastered out of her mind.

Draco actually had the presence of mind to ask for her house coordinates before she was too hammered to remember.

"Granger," Draco laughed, "Granger, are you okay?"  
"Yes, I'm totally fine – I just … I just," Hermione slurred. "Haven't con-cons …"  
"It's okay, don't push yourself too hard," Draco laughed again.  
"I haven't con-shumed alcohol in a while … so you know …"  
"No, I don't know, Granger, but whatever you say," Draco said, "You do know that it's just wine you're getting drunk on?"  
"Not drunk!" she protested, swaying in her seat slightly, "I just … not used to it. The last time I had wine was when I was with you, you know."

"With me? Really?" Draco answered mildly, shaking his head and muttered something about, "Drunken people with their hallucinations …"  
"Yesh. Don't you remember?" Hermione smacked him lightly on his cheek.

"No, I don't, Granger," he replied, not even minding the fact that Hermione had literally slapped him on the cheek, albeit lightly.

"Oh yeah," she slurred some more, "Of course you don't. After institute … memory gone. POOF!" she gestured with her hands, trying to communicate what she really meant with the word 'poof'.

Silence.

"How'd you know that, Granger?" Draco asked quietly, eyes boring into her glassy ones.  
"Harry told me, of course!"  
"Potter?" his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Yes, well … my best friend. Harry Potter. The Saviour of The Wizarding World! The Boy Who Lived! Cheers to Harry!" she shouted, gulping down another glass of wine.

A few people had heard Hermione's toast and had clapped and agreed with her, gulping down their drinks as well.

Draco remained quiet, watching his glass gin and tonic intently.

"Whassamatter, Draco?" Hermione whispered.  
"Nothing, Granger," he shook his head.  
"Oh, is this about what I said about Harry telling me?" she whispered conspiratorially in her drunken stupor, "Don't blame, Harry, really … he didn't tell me what happened to you out of sshhhpite, spite – but only because I … I was somewhat involved in the whole …" she gestured wildly again, "thing."

Grey eyes focused on her again, and she sighed heavily.

"I miss those eyes, you know. Even more when I was in Africa, trying to forget you … and when it rained – pshhhhhhhh rained heavily, you know – but before the rain, the stormy clouds … like your eyes …. Beautiful."

Draco frowned.  
"You're not making any sense, you know."  
"I know," she sighed heavily, and rested her face on her hand. "I know, Draco, I know."

"Let's get you home, then."

"Wait!" she gripped him almost painfully on the arm, and tried her best to look at him in the eyes, "For what it's worth … I … I'm glad, that you're okay now … and that you got your old life back. I … I'm glad that you … you know, are right here, happy. Harry told me that if you hadn't appeared on my doorstep the day you were cursed, you would have died … and … and that would be a very sad thing … very sad indeed. What's the world without Draco Abraxas Malfoy?"

Draco stared at her, eyes widened fractionally.

"And … and I'm sorry that I left … left before Harry and them took you to get treatment … I needed to leave … I don't think I was going to … to let you go if I had stayed," Hermione continued, shifting from a hysterical and happy drunk into an emotional one.

Draco was watching her intently now, as if analyzing something.

Hermione sighed heavily again.

"We should get home," Draco said calmly, hoisting Hermione up with strong arms.  
"Mmhmm," she said and she immediately lost her balance and landed in Draco's chest. Sniffing his after-shave, she moaned, "Mmm … Draco. This smell ish so Draco."

"Brace yourself, Granger," Draco said to her, before Hermione felt the familiar tug of Apparition.

They landed in the middle of her house, and Hermione almost fell on her bum if it not for Draco holding her up firmly.

"Would you … would you like some … tea?" Hermione mumbled, face still in Draco's chest.  
"Granger, you're not even capable of walking alone by now and you're offering me tea? You might burn the whole house down."

"Mmm, I know. That's why you ushed to do all the cooking."

Draco froze again.

"You're really strange, Granger. You're talking as if we were living together before," he said.  
"But we were!" Hermione exclaimed all of a sudden, detaching herself from Draco's chest, "After your curse … I nursed you – healed you … you didn't know anything then, lost your memory … and then … and then … and then …" she concentrated harder.

"And then?" Draco pressed.

"And then I fell in love with you," Hermione blurted, looking shocked at her admission, before smiling broadly.

Silence.

"And then … I think you were in love with me too … otherwise you wouldn't have … done all those things."  
"Those things? What things?"

"You … you know, you used to make me breakfast every morning … kissed me before I went to work … and when I came back from work … told me you loved me," Hermione was speedily returning to the emotional part of her drunken personality again, "And … there!"

She pointed at her couch.

"We almost made love there," she yelled again.  
"Why are you telling me all this, Granger?" Draco asked quietly.

"Dunno … drunken minds, sober hearts or some crap like that. I need to sleep," she announced all of a sudden, beginning a slow walk to her bedroom, "Need to sleep. Very sleepy."

Draco trailed behind her as she entered her bedroom, and she proceeded to collapse onto it. He was kind enough to tuck her underneath her blanket and leave a Hangover Potion he found in the kitchen for her on the bedside table.

"You're really lovely, Draco," Hermione muttered quietly, eyes shut, just as Draco was about to leave. "And … Draco?"

"Yes, Granger?"

"I … I love you. Probably always will. Even if you don't remember me like I remember you."

Then the snores came, and Draco left a minute after that.

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If possible, Hermione actually felt her head throbbing way before she woke up.

"Guh," she groaned and rolled over in bed, lying there groggily – _stupid sunlight _– she tried to block the sun out, because it made her headache a billion times worse.

"Nngrh," she almost sobbed, clutching her head and trying to sit up. Thankfully, an angel had been kind enough to leave a Hangover Potion within reach. She grabbed it and fast as her body could and gulped it down.

Her headache instantly cleared and she was more aware of her surroundings.

Wait. Who had left the Hangover Potion?

She traced her memory back to last night.

Fuck. Draco.  
Fuck, fuck, fuck. She had got extremely shitfaced last night and can't even remember beyond – beyond an hour after they had entered the pub.

Fuck.

"_Fuck!"_ she screamed passionately into the air.

She hoped she had not anything stupid to him – or worse, revealed anything to him. That would be bad, that would be very, very bad.

In her peripheral vision, she noticed that an owl had been perched on her desk, feasting on owl treats. The owl treats were half gone, and she vaguely wondered how long the owl had been there for.

She walked over to the owl and unfastened the scroll from its leg.

_Mione,_

_Draco came in earlier asking questions.  
Beware._

_Harry_

_P/S did you perchance, say anything to him last night while you were apparently 'beyond drunk'? His words, not mine._

"_FUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!_" she screeched again.

So she _did_ say something.

Grumbling and swearing to herself, she left her bedroom and walked into the living room – and almost died of a heart attack on the spot.

She gasped, catching sight of Draco Malfoy, sitting in her sofa, flipping through her old magazines.

"D-draco!" she stopped in her tracks.  
"I see you're finally up, Granger. It's only …" he glanced at his watch, "Three in the afternoon."  
"I … I …" she croaked uselessly.

"We need to talk about a few very pertinent things, if you don't mind," he said politely.

Her heart was galloping madly in her chest and she watched Draco cautiously.

"What about?" she hesitated, biting her lip.  
"You know … when I came in here last night to drop you off, I still had the idea that you were just sprouting drunken nonsense. That was until I actually looked around this place. I was wondering why everything just looked so very familiar, and I just could not contemplate how or why they were familiar. For one, I knew exactly where you kept your Hangover Potions. I knew my way around this place – and you know what totally gave it away, Granger?"

"What?"

"The wards. It did not even block me out. By right, we should have Apparated outside your home if the wards had blocked me out, but we landed inside, instead. Which means," he looked up at Hermione and watched her with a serious mien, "I've been here before. Plenty times, I suppose. I might have lived here for quite a bit, isn't that right, Granger?"

Hermione finally sighed and sat tentatively on the other sofa, albeit on the edge of it, all the while fiddling with her thumbs nervously.

"It was absurd, all the things you said last night," he paused, "You know, after I got my memory – my old memory back – I always felt as if there was something missing. As if there was a hiatus somewhere in my memory and being, and I couldn't quite figure it out. Until your little 'honesty hour' last night.

So I checked with Potter. He told me everything. And by everything, I mean _every single detail since the moment I got cursed and landed here_."

Hermione gulped and in lieu of meeting his eyes, she concentrated on her pajama bottoms.

"So tell me, Granger," he prompted, voice calm and cool, "Is it true, that after I got cursed, you healed me and nursed me back to health?"

"Yes," she answered.

"Is it true that while I was being nursed back to health, we were almost – no, _actually_ lovers?"  
"_Yes_," she said, clenching her eyes shut.

Silence.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione started, tracing patterns on her pajama bottoms, "I just … we – I just didn't want to tell you because you might feel betrayed. If you were your normal self, you wouldn't have done those things and … and the fact that you weren't your normal self and you did makes it seem like … oh, _I don't even know how to explain it."_

Draco nodded, seemingly catching on.

"I just thought that we'd be able to just forget about it and move on like nothing happened, so I just … left you to your old life," she continued.

"Have you then?" he asked suddenly.  
"What?"

"Have you forgotten all about it and moved on?"

They made eye contact and lingered for long moments.

"No."

Silence again.

"Draco … I think -" she rasped, but was cut off.  
"I want to see it," Draco said with absolute gravitas.

"See what?"

"Your memories," he answered briskly, "I want to see your memories of our time together."

Hermione was coming up with various ideas of why it would be such a bad idea, but it was as if Draco could see right through her.

"Before you come up with reasons as to why I should not, think of why I _should_," he said, "Those are partially my memories too. I have a right to know and to see it."  
"Are … are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, Granger, I am sure. It is _very grating_ to live a life with a missing piece somewhere and I intend to fill it, no matter how strange or how fleeting it was."

Hermione nodded.

"Alright."

Draco deftly threw her a small bottle and Hermione caught it.

Lifting her wand to her temple, she concentrated on all her memories with Draco (extremely aware that there had been some very naughty parts, but she reckoned that Draco wouldn't appreciate her leaving anything out), and drew the string of light blue waves into the small bottle before sealing it.

She walked over to Draco and handed him the small bottle, "Here."

He stood up and looked at her in the eye when receiving it.

"Thank you," he said silently, before Disapparating.

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**The last chapter will be up in a couple of days or so, but in the interim, do read and review! **


	5. Chapter 5

As promised, the last installation of this story! *throws a party for readers*

Also, M – double naughty times ahead! Wink wink.

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Her hair was a riot. She had smudges something purple and green on some parts of her face from various healing salves and ointments and her spine was threatening to snap any second.

Hermione had had a very trying Wednesday.

She had barely slept for the past two days since Draco left the house with his bottle of memories and left Hermione to drive herself up the wall – gradually, indubitably and inexorably.

_It's only been two days, Hermione, get a grip_, she reminded herself oftentimes than necessarily required within the span of only two days.

_Maybe he just needs time to … mull things over. To decide what he wants to do. Or, _she clenched her fists involuntarily as she made her way to the loo during her break. _Or he was just mighty disgusted at what had happened and now just doesn't want to have anything to do with me._

_Well, can't blame him then_, Hermione sighed, noticing the now-purple circles under her eyes and the general mess that is Hermione Granger at that moment. _Get over it. Move on. Live. _

Decidedly-over-Malfoy-at-that-moment, Hermione took a deep breath before exiting the loo, prepared for another round of battle in St Mungo's.

"Healer Granger, thank _Merlin_, you're back -"

"Healer Granger, what took you _so long?_"

"Healer Granger, you've got an emergency at Ward No. 213 -"

"I know he said that he didn't want you to treat him because of your blood status, but he's old and sick and he really should put aside the pureblood issues for the moment, you need to save his life -"

"Healer Granger -"

"Healer Granger -"

"_HEALER GRANGER!"_

In the midst of treating one man that was sending her snide looks – pureblood, of course – and ignoring his wife's spiteful comments on 'the nerve of St. Mungo's, letting the likes of you treat us', she was on the verge of tears but pressed on.

Somehow, the universe was being extra cruel to her today.

Blinking back the sting in her eyes, she ignored the looks and comments from the couple.

She can't wait to go home that day, get into her bed, curl up, wither and die.

Immediately, another thought followed that – without her being able to stop it before she processed it and for it to reverberate –

_Things would be better if she had Draco to come home to._

And those were the exact thoughts she had a year ago – and she was at her happiest.

A whole deluge of memories of Draco welcoming her as soon as she stepped through the Floo, glancing at her and smiled sadly while saying "I'm sorry you had a long day", wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back comfortingly and everything was just forgotten – her stress, her sadness, her tiredness – all gone.

_Well those memories are also supposed to be gone and forgotten, as well as Draco Malfoy._

Her heart ached _so very _painfully at that, and her throat felt tight and that _bloody sting_ was back in her eyes and she really needed to concentrate and forget everything and _godshebloodymissedhimsobad_ –

"Maybe I should just go back to _fucking Africa_," she muttered under her breath as she finished treatment on the pureblood arsehole.

"What? What was that?" he asked, his wife leaning in closer.  
"I said, that's done and thank you for choosing St. Mungo's," she said with a falsely cheerful voice, her smile so plastically broad it hurt her cheeks, and her hand coming to rest over her heart, "Do take care of yourself properly, for we want nothing else but to ensure your health _and _happiness. Good day!"

She marched off, not waiting for a reply, ready to take on her next patient.

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Things didn't get better from there. She had Apparated home, almost breaking her neck after she tripped on _whatthefuckwasthat_, she stubbed her toe against her dining table while boiling water for her tea and whilst on her way out to throw the garbage, the whole plastic bag just split into half, a gigantic, smelly, horrible-looking muddle in the middle of her living room.

She patiently grabbed her wand (patiently, while swearing colourfully), and fixed the bag and dumped everything back into it. She dumped the wand onto her sofa and carried the garbage out. She had to do this because she lived in a Muggle neighbourhood, to keep up appearances with the neighbours and she didn't want the garbage man to wonder why she never had trash.

She dumped everything into the large garbage bin outside, took a calming breath and marched to her doorstep – only to find it locked.

"_YOU'RE FUCKING KIDDING ME," _she laughed hysterically; "YOU'RE REALLY FUCKING KIDDING ME!" as she gripped the handle and twisted it around. It did not move a bunch. She felt her back pockets for her wand, only to remember that she had dumped it onto her sofa on the way out.

"God, Merlin, please, come on, please," she cried in anguish, "I really don't need this right now, COME ON!"

She _knew_ she should have mastered Wandless spells.

_Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?_

"_Fucking AFRICA it is!" _she shouted doggedly at her front door, noting that after she sorted this out, she was going to have a good, long cry in the shower before going to bed.

"Now what did your front door do to piss you off, Granger?" a melodic, clearly amused voice came from behind her.  
"Draco," she turned around and whispered almost breathlessly.

A small smile appeared at the corner of his lips, and those grey eyes were still glinting with hilarity.

And she wanted to smile and cry at the same time.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked, pushing those annoying strands of hair that she was sure made her look like an old, frowning maid.  
"I would say I was in the area, but that would be a lie," he answered, "I Apparated not too far from here, thought I'd take a walk before dropping by. I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," she said, feeling a billion times tired all of a sudden, "Oh. Well, I would invite you in but," she waved aimlessly at her front door, "I seem to have locked myself outside with my wand inside."

"Such a clever girl," Draco tsk'ed and chuckled, before walking up to her and past her – Hermione catching a whiff of that illegally saliva-inducing cologne that he wore at that moment – and muttered a spell, watching as her door flew open.  
"Thank you, Draco," she said, not even bothering to mask the fact that she had called him Draco instead of Malfoy. "Come in. Tea?"  
"Yes, please."

They walked into the house quietly, and to Hermione's relief, less awkwardly than the last time they had been in here together, which was almost three days ago.

Draco sat at the dining table like he owned the place, in all his familiarity and ease. As Hermione was about to scoop spoons of sugar into his cup, he opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione cut him off.

"Two spoonfuls of sugar and ungodly amount of milk," she said quietly and smiled as Draco shut his mouth immediately at that.

She sat across him and rubbed her face tiredly.

"You look like hell, Granger," Draco said nonchalantly, drinking in the sight of her and looking at her almost in a fond way.  
"I know, thanks," she said, "Had the shittiest, longest day of my entire life."  
"I'm sorry you had a long day," he answered softly, before taking a sip from his tea. At that, Hermione glanced at him and caught his eyes as he peered at her from the top of his cup.

"I watched them, the memories," Draco said calmly.  
"Oh, okay," she answered dumbly, not knowing what to say to that.  
"I can't even begin to tell you how strange it was to watch all that, watching myself but not having any recollection of it at all."

Hermione nodded, taking a sip of her tea.

"I actually felt like an actor," he said, smiling slightly and Hermione couldn't help but smile at that too.  
"Yes, well, I imagine that would be very awkward, having to watch your memories like it was some sort of film."

Hermione also imagined that watching the film with a sex scene would be terribly embarrassing, especially – _imperially _– if you were in it. Her face turned hot at the memory.

"Yes, but it was too real. Too real to be a film."

Silence.

"It was fleeting, I am aware, and also very confusing on my part," Draco continued, "But I also am aware of the fact that it was real, purely genuine and I believed that at some point in time I truly did feel something for you."

_Did? _It hurt something fierce to catch the past tense in his sentence.

"So, I came here," he cleared his throat, "to thank you. For what you did for me. You saved my life, Granger."

Hermione felt that sting in her eyes again, and the tightness in her throat.

"You're most welcome, Draco," she said, giving him a watery smile.

_This is it. This is the end. Goodbye forever, Draco Malfoy._

"It was a _pleasure_ knowing you," he said cheekily, stressing on the word 'pleasure', and Hermione blushed furiously at that. "You truly are remarkable."  
"Why, thank you," she laughed, trying to hold back the tears – _just a little more, just a little bit longer … you can cry after he leaves – forever_.

"And I truly regret, that somehow things have changed -"  
"No, don't say that," Hermione argued nobly, "It is better for you to be alive, and safe, and yourself again – that's what's truly important."

Draco nodded mutely.

"True, but I feel contrite at the fact that you … you have to deal with picking up all the pieces."  
"No, don't worry … it'll just go," she laughed, trying to make it seem like it was no big deal. "Like you said, it was only fleeting."  
"Yes, I did."

She smiled, eyes bright.

"Well, I do not wish to push my welcome here," he said with finality, standing up, "I will make a move."  
"Alright," Hermione stood up as well, walking him to the front door because he 'wanted to leave like a proper house guest and not just Disapparate directly out of there' – her last resolve at not breaking down crumbling, almost down to zero – "I will see you around, Draco."  
"Yes, I truly hope we can be friends," he said, looking at her in the eyes.  
"We will, once I get past the awkwardness," she laughed, waving her hand pointlessly at her attempt at a joke.

"Granger," he held out his hand for her to shake, and she immediately grasped it.  
"Malfoy," she nodded, relishing in the last few moments of his warmth before it was gone – completely – forever – never to come back to her.

With that, he turned and left the house properly and she shut the door behind him.

_Wait for it, wait for it … _she thought as she let her guard down, waiting for the dam to break.

Nothing.

Huh. She _couldn't even cry_, how fucking pathetic was that.

Well maybe it would only come during the shower. She did, after all, promised herself a good cry in the shower. Just as she was about to walk to her bedroom, heart aching like _neverfuckingbefore_, there was another knock on the door.

_God, what now – stupid fucking neighbours giving fucking cookies again? I really have no time for th –_

Again, it was Draco.  
Looking at her like she turned him to a ferret again and insulted his father at the same time.

"What?" she asked.

"That's the second time you let me go, Granger," he snarled, before advancing in on her.  
"What? What? What are you talking about?" she squawked, clearly confused.  
"I remember _everything_, Granger. I remembered everything after I saw your memories – like something triggered it, it set something off in me and all of a sudden I remember everything by heart, feel everything – I knew exactly what I felt and when."

Hermione gaped at him and staggered back like a pile of bricks.

"So what the fuck was all that show for?" She yelled – this was too much, _too much _to take in a day –  
"I just wanted you to know exactly how I felt when I woke up that day, not knowing you were gone, to _fucking Africa at that!_"

Hermione's head throbbed – what the _fuck_ – she felt as if she couldn't handle the _whatthefuck_s that currently were inundating her _very being_ at that moment.

That being said, even after remembering and feeling everything that Hermione remembered and felt, he still possessed the audacity – the presence of mind to get revenge!

"Once a Malfoy, always a _fucking _Malfoy," she hissed, swear words flying all over the place now and she couldn't give a damn, "Revenge, really? You just wanted -"  
"It's only fair," Draco said mildly, idly examining his nails. "You have quite a prodigious brain, you know. You should note that even if a person loses his memory, it doesn't make him an entirely new person. If losing my memory made room for me to actually have feelings for you, then surely the real me could most certainly have room for that exact thing, don't you think?"

"You stupid _piece of shit_," she seethed, and then Draco's eyes suddenly flickered to hers and in a heartbeat, he had her pressed against the wall.

"You arsehole – you lying, deceitful, thoughtless _arsehole_," she hissed through her tears that suddenly came out of nowhere, "I _hate _you."

He leaned in, nose touching hers and his breath mingling with hers and whispered oh-so-enticingly it made Hermione experience physical pain at the longing she had for this man.

"But you love this … this lying, deceitful, thoughtless arsehole, don't you?" he said, stroking the sides of her face, liquid mercury eyes gazing into honey brown ones.

Hermione's lower lip trembled and she nodded shakily, making more tears that pooled in her eyes drop onto her cheeks.

"Yes," she whispered, "Yes, I do."

As soon as that left her lips, Draco immediately smashed his mouth onto hers and capturing her lips in the most passionate, bruising and scorching kiss – a kiss so hard and intense it made her toes curl into the carpet, as she fought for stability by clutching his biceps so hard it could have bruised him.

_God, how she missed Draco – it was to the point of insanity _and to have him back almost made Hermione's head explode with the sheer thought of it all.

The kiss went on and on for Merlin-knows-how-long – it was amazing, the feeling of reuniting after so long, the passion, the everything … the atmosphere was scalding, the kiss even better, even through the wetness that ran down Hermione's cheeks.

"Fuck, Hermione, I missed you," Draco whispered breathlessly against her mouth, his hands trembling.  
"I missed you too," she said, almost embarking on a fresh batch of tears.  
"And I love you," he said.

Her heart lurched almost painfully at that and she smiled, "I love you too."

He brought his lips towards hers and they kissed again, and again and again, until the warm glow that enveloped Hermione turned into something hotter. His hand stroked her face and the other was holding her so tightly and wandering everywhere as if he didn't know where to touch first.

It rushed through her body like white-hot lightning and she was certain it was the same for Draco, if the warm hardness pressing into her thigh was anything to go by.

"Draco, I -" she rasped, pressing back against his hardness, making him gasp.

Whatever she wanted to say was forgotten, as he immediately positioned himself _just so_, so perfectly that he was directly positioned in between her legs and pressing _right there_.

Just as his hand hooked underneath one of her knees and brought it up and the other going down _down down_ to stroke her through her now damp knickers, and just as she was about to suggest they move – he stopped.

He stopped.

And withdrew his hands and moved a foot back, smiling at her mischievously.

_What, what the fuck?_ She tried to send him a confused look through her thoroughly-debauched appearance. Couldn't he tell that she wanted him so bad, after so long?

"Why'd you stop?" she asked, affronted and annoyed and frustrated.  
"I hardly think this is the proper way for a lovers' reunion, don't you?" he asked cheekily and airily, as if he just didn't practically hump her into the wall.  
"You're joking," she said.

"Au contraire," he grinned, stroking the side of her face with his knuckles, "I think you've gone through a lot for a day … I think you should get proper rest, and have a good night's sleep."  
"Wha?" Hermione opened her mouth.  
"Tomorrow, after work … wear something nice, and I'll pick you up at around seven. I'll take you out on a proper date."

Before she could protest and tell him how _idiotic_ he sounded, he gave her a passionate kiss that jellified her legs.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered against her lips, so close to her that he was practically kissing her whenever he spoke.

And then he Disapparated.

Needless to say, despite the confusion and the ruined knickers and everything – Hermione went to the shower and smiled to herself instead of crying. In fact, she was so overjoyed she kept laughing in the shower, almost choking on the sprays of water.

She went to bed feeling lighter than she had ever felt since she left Draco a year ago, and thinking that she couldn't wait to have Draco back in her bed, arms wrapped securely around her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

_Fuck you, Draco Malfoy_.

That was the sentiment that reverberated throughout the entirety of their dinner date the next day.

Not that there was anything wrong with the date. It was perfect, it was lovely – it was the most amazing date with the most amazing person.

It was just that while she tried to concentrate on the romantic music and the quixotic ambience of the quiet, little restaurant, all she could think of was the feeling of Draco's thigh pressed against hers. They were seated next to each other at a corner booth in the dainty restaurant and she could not get her mind off the warmth Draco was exuding and how devilishly mouth-watering he looked that night.

He, on the other hand, was calm and composed – a kiss here, a peck on the neck there and a little bit of stroking on the side of her face and Hermione was a mess.

It was during dinner that she suddenly felt his warm, warm hand stroke her thigh. It salaciously moved down and under her skirt, tracing random patterns.

Hermione tried to tune it out and pay attention on her scrumptious dinner instead, but she found that anything against Draco Malfoy was bound to lose. She almost dropped her spoon as his hand moved dangerously close to her knickers.

"Everything alright, Hermione?" he asked, smirking.  
"Peachy," Hermione answered, almost annoyed.  
"Aren't you enjoying yourself?"  
"I am, everything is really amazing and," she continued, his fingers growing ever bolder, feeling the skin of her legs as he ran them up and down.

She was trembling as she fought to form a complete sentence.

"And?" he pressed, his lips brushing against her ear.  
"And …"

"Finish your dinner, Hermione," he felt her smile against her ear, but he didn't cease his ministrations. Hermione's legs clamped shut, effectively and unfortunately locking his hand in between them, leaving him to ghost his fingers over her already wet knickers.

"Draco," she warned.

He immediately leaned back and stabbed his fish with his fork before bringing it to his mouth, hands still moving seductively and slowly on her thigh.

It continued throughout their dinner, with almost-kisses from Draco and seductive touches until Hermione felt that her knickers would just combust right then and there.

It was when Draco ordered dessert that Hermione felt like she couldn't take it anymore.

"Can we just forget the dessert and go home?" she asked, face flaming.  
"No, of course not. I ordered the best dessert here, and I want you to try it. We can go after," he smiled and pecked her on the cheek, hand still driving her bonkers.

"Fine," she snapped, throwing her napkin on the table, "Excuse me for a minute; I have to go to the ladies'."

If she was going to stay for dessert, fine by her – but she just needed to cool down first before she ended up melting everything around her including her dessert in her desire for Draco.

She checked her face in the mirror, washing her hands and taking deep, calming breaths. When she left the loo however, she nearly ran into someone, who grabbed her arms tightly, steadying her.

"Draco," she gasped, "You scared me."

Draco didn't say anything, he only pushed her back into the loo, locked it with his wand and pressed her against the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, getting intoxicated by his scent again.  
"You look beautiful tonight, Hermione," he whispered into her ear, a hand coming to tug her knickers down her dress, his fingers moving towards her center.

"Do you know how much I want you?" he asked, his fingers slipping between her legs and stroking.  
Hermione groaned and tipped her head back to rest against the door.

His fingers dipped inside of her and he started pumping, making her back arch and she bit her lip in an effort to not scream.

"Oh, shit!" she cried, gripping Draco's clothed arms tightly as she felt her legs go limp.  
He chuckled darkly and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

He kept on pumping her, teasing her and Hermione moaned, the world forgotten.

Her head dropped onto his chest as he continued to pick up speed and she was steadily losing her mind.  
"Draco, Draco, Draco," she tried over and over again but she couldn't seem to string the words.  
"What is it, love?" He whispered seductively low, "Tell me what it is you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I want to – I," she groaned, not even caring that she heard knockings against the door, people wanting to get in.

"Excuse me, is anyone in there?" a muffled voice came from outside the door.

Hermione couldn't care less, she threw caution to the wind as she groaned and moaned as Draco worked his fingers in her.

"What is it, baby?" he asked again, licking the shell of her ear.  
"Draco, please, I want to – ah!" she got cut off, as he went back to stroking her with irritating slowness. It was the second time she was denied completion, and Draco was looking so smug about it.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" the same person called out again. Then another voice. "Why don't we call the manager?"

"Draco," Hermione moaned, as he picked up the pace again, "Please."  
"Excuse me, can someone get the manager?" Another voice called out.

"Draco, please! Plea-ah! Please, please, please, _please -"  
_And with a twist of his fingers, Hermione detonated, crying out Draco's name passionately as her rode out her completion.

It seemed to go on forever – she felt as if she had gone deaf and blind – everything was white and she couldn't hear anything. She sagged against the wall, catching her breath as Draco diligently fixed her knickers for her and gave her a sweet kiss.

Draco grabbed her hand firmly and unlocked the entrance to the loo, and stepped out, smiling charmingly at the flabbergasted ladies waiting outside. They all watched him leave, leading a red-faced shaky-legged Hermione back to their table.

"Why can't we leave yet?" Hermione asked, seemingly recovered from one of the sexiest moments in her entire life.  
"Because," Draco grinned, lifting their entwined hands and kissing her knuckles, "We haven't had dessert yet."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x. x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

They landed on the sheets with furious kisses and wandering hands and praises. Clothes were strewn all over the place as they practically undressed each other like a child unwrapping their Christmas presents.

It was soft, slow and romantic.

Of course it was, this time it was different. This time they were making love.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and he leaned in, and they were both just breathing each others' scents in.

Grey eyes were staring back at hers – full of love, desire and she reached up to pull him into a slow, languid kiss.

He drew back and began to trace every single curve, plane and crevice of her body – as if trying to memorize it and imprint them to his memory forever.

"Draco," she whispered.  
"I'm refreshing my memory," he grinned devilishly, hands still wandering, worshipping as he bent down to kiss every single part he could get his hands on.

Hermione thought of cheesy movies at that time, and imagine Draco arching a regal eyebrow and exclaiming, "I'll make you scream so hard neither you nor I will ever, ever _forget_." She laughed a little at that.

"What?" Draco grinned, stroking her face.  
Hermione told him what she had thought of, he only looked at her playfully and muttered, "In a minute, I will."

In one slow motion, he entered her and they both groaned at the same time. Hermione was going pass out at the feeling – both emotionally and physically that was engulfing her.

"Fuck," he hissed.  
Her nails were digging into his back and he was looking at her intently, so full of love and she felt like _this was it, this was what she wanted always – Draco Malfoy._

She was so scared that she would never see him again and judging by the way Draco Malfoy was touching her, moving in her, he was feeling the same. She met him thrust for thrust, feeling his heart pound against her chest. He was gripping her hips so tightly now, enough to bruise and she was sure there would be scratch marks all over Draco's back tomorrow but obviously neither of them cared.

"Draco," she babbled in between eliciting moans and groans, arching her back as she felt herself near the end.  
"Do it, Hermione," Draco purred, "Come for me."

And with a resounding and reverent scream of his name, she contracted around him and released, pulling him along with her to the end, Draco releasing with a hushed "Hermione" falling from his lips.

They collapsed on the bed – tangled limbs, sweat-slicked bodies and contented hearts.

"I love you," Draco said as they both exchanged soft, sweet kisses.  
"I love you, too," she sighed happily, carding her fingers through his hair.

"What would have happened if you really didn't remember?" Hermione thought out loud.  
Draco, who was purring because of Hermione's ministrations on his hair, answered briskly, "We were made for each other, Hermione. Either way, we would still end up like this. The only thing different is that we would just have to make new memories."

Hermione smiled at that and briefly fell asleep, in Draco Malfoy's arms.

**THE END!**

**Aww, it has finished *sobs*. Hope you enjoyed that, and as always, read and review! **

**I love you guys!**


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